


Points of Contact

by Topicabo



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, M/M, Not Beta Read, Not Britpicked, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-03-03 22:05:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13350462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Topicabo/pseuds/Topicabo
Summary: “Join me?”“But, dinner-”“It’s not going anywhere. Want you in here.”(Note: This is an edited repost of Chapters 18 and 19 of November Mystrade 2017)





	Points of Contact

**Author's Note:**

> Having trouble getting back into the swing of writing since Christmas, so I used this to help ease me back into things. Also, because like last year, there's some things in November Mystrade 2017 I wanted to edit up properly and let stand on their own.

**_It seems I am available sooner than I thought tonight. Shall I come over whenever I am finished here? M_ **

**Fine with me. We can start dinner early if you want. Just let yourself in when you get here. I need to hop in the shower when I get home. Feel like I’ve been swimming in my own sweat all day. G**

 

**_It has been sweltering, hasn’t it? I admit I’ve made more of a concentrated effort to remain indoors this week. Especially since that last venture into extended sunlight turned out so badly for me. M_ **

****

**Even when I rubbed Aloe Vera on your burns? G**

**_Oh no, that part was quite pleasant. Particularly your attentiveness to my arse. M_ **

****

**Can you blame me? Sounds you were making were criminal. G**

**_Lord, enough. I can’t have you tempting me into indecency right now. The ambassador would be scandalised. M_ **

****

**;) All right, finish ruling the world and I’ll see you soon. G**

**_Gregory, please. I `manage`, at most. Until later. M_ **

 

The gust of air conditioning hitting Greg as he entered his flat was a blessed relief. He groaned, wrenching off his tie and tossing it to the floor. He made enough effort to at least sling his jacket over one of the armchairs. Once in his bedroom he simply shed the rest of his sweat-stained clothes onto the carpet, naked before he even reached his bathroom.

 

He turned the shower on cold and stepped in, standing under the spray with his hands braced against the shower wall. He started to shiver, but it still felt good to wash away the grim and heat of the day.

 

The sound of footsteps startled Greg for a moment. Then he heard, “Gregory?”

 

Greg relaxed again. “You got here fast,” he called out. “I’ll be out in a bit. Wine’s in the fridge if you want to open it.” Straightening, he gave the hot water knob a twist so he could actually go about washing for real.

 

There was a knock on the shower door. Greg looked, able to make out the hazy form of Mycroft through the translucent glass. He slid the door open.

 

“Yeah? What is it?”

 

Mycroft didn’t answer right away. His focus momentarily wandered, following the beads of water gliding down Greg’s skin. Then he lifted his eyes to Greg’s, mouth setting in one of those soft, enigmatic smiles.  

 

“Hello.”

 

Greg raised an eyebrow, his own smile forming. “Hi.”

 

He recognised this mood; that quiet suggestion of interest. Mycroft had grown bolder during the course of their relationship, finding his footing with playful flirting and intimacy. But he was still reserved in many ways - often hesitant to openly voice his need for Greg, as though he might go about it wrong and ruin things before they began.

 

Sometimes he needed to be reminded of how much he was wanted.

 

Of how much Greg had come to crave his touch.

 

Carefully, Greg curled fingers along the back of Mycroft’s neck, drawing his lips close. He kept his touch light, teasing - coaxing that flicker of desire to burn a little hotter. Mycroft’s hand twitched restlessly against Greg’s chest as he took shivers of breath in through his nose.

 

“Join me?” Greg asked, catching Mycroft’s bottom lip with a gentle nip.

 

“But, dinner-”

 

“It’s not going anywhere. Want you in here.”

 

“Oh.” Mycroft sighed, thought shrinking away. “Yes. All right.”

 

Undressing came first. Palms skimming along lapels, buttons, the satiny back of Mycroft’s waistcoat. Greg pressed his lips to Mycroft’s forehead, cheek, jawline; gentle and sure as clothes gave way to bare skin. He liked when they could do this slow. He liked being the one to strip away all those physical or emotional barriers, piece by piece.

 

Mycroft was visibly hard by the time his trousers and pants pooled to the floor. Stepping free, he lifted his eyes to Greg’s and waited, minute tremors in his breathing. Greg smiled, drawing a hand down Mycroft’s arm to thread their fingers together. He climbed back into the shower and with a gentle tug, pulled Mycroft in after him.

 

They stood for a while, letting water and their hands make exploratory trails along each other’s bodies. Mycroft took the shampoo and looked to Greg, asking, “May I?”

 

Greg nodded. A scratchy little hmm susurrated from his throat as Mycroft worked the liquid against his scalp. He loved Mycroft’s hands on his head, loved soft pets and massages. There had been many nights that found them curled up on the couch or in bed, Greg lulled to sleep by gentle fingers stroking through his hair.

 

It seemed that Mycroft got just as much out of it as Greg did.

 

Mycroft directed Greg to face away from him with a light nudge, foregoing the bath sponge to apply the body wash by hand. He passed his palms along Greg’s nape, his chest, down his back and lower still. Greg stifled a giggle as Mycroft slipped his hands over the globes of his arse. He yelped a second later as Mycroft gave a hard squeeze.

 

“Apologies,” Mycroft said, coy. He snaked an arm around Greg’s torso and drew Greg against his chest. “Was that too hard?”

 

Greg laughed breathlessly. “Bastard. You’re not sorry at al- _ohhhh_   _fuck_ …"

 

Mycroft’s fingers curled around his length, slick with suds. “What about this?” he whispered in Greg’s ear, a warm flash of tongue on the lobe. “Better?”

 

Greg’s hips rolled into the first slow pull. “Y-yeah. That’s-“ Mycroft’s thumb swiped over his tip, and Greg expelled all his air in one go. There was enough soap and water to make up for the lack of lube - that extra bit of friction adding a delicious edge to the sensation. Mycroft mouthed at his neck, rolled the nub of Greg’s nipple between the fore and middle finger of his free hand as Greg shivered and moaned.

 

Greg’s breathing began to quicken, his head falling back against Mycroft’s shoulder. “Myc… Myc…!” he whimpered, both as a warning and a plea.

 

Mycroft’s grip suddenly tightened just a bit more, his pace speeding up just a bit more, everything happening just a bit  _more_.

 

Greg stiffened, a deep groan torn from his throat as he came in a long, shuddering wave. He writhed, panted, and twitched with it. Mycroft held him stable through the crest, whispering softness and praise. Gradually he gentled his strokes, easing out the final aftershocks before his hand stilled and shifted to splay possessively over Greg’s stomach.

 

“Gregory…”

 

Greg turned, wrapping trembling arms around Mycroft and messily kissing him. He shuffled them both backwards until Mycroft bumped against the wall. “You now,” Greg murmured, feeling almost tipsy. He knelt as quickly as his unsteady legs would allow, leaned forward, and took Mycroft into his mouth.

 

Mycroft’s hands scrambled for purchase on Greg’s shoulders, his head thunking back against the tile. The string of vocalisations meant that he was already close, as did the flush of pink blossoming out from his upper chest to his neck. Bracing him in place, Greg reached up, rubbing just under Mycroft’s bollocks as he swallowed around him.

 

The result was spectacular. The splash of bitterness, Mycroft pulsing against his tongue. Mycroft’s voice rose in a desperate, wavering cry, his thigh muscles quivering and hips jerking. Greg continued mouthing around Mycroft until a weak moan signaled he should leave off.

 

Greg gave a parting kiss to Mycroft’s softening cock, beaming with a quiet sort of pride at the little twitch it caused. He staggered to his feet, pulling Mycroft to him. “You’re a bloody marvel,” he whispered, nuzzling the damp skin of Mycroft’s neck. He guided their lips together, gently drawing Mycroft out of his daze. They melted into the languid pleasure of their after-glow.

 

The hot water chose that moment to go frigid. After Greg scrambled to shut off the stream, they stumbled shivering and grumbling out of the shower. Greg retrieved towels and folded Mycroft up in a terrycloth cocoon.

 

“Sorry. You didn’t even get your chance to wash up.”

 

“Partially my own fault for dawdling. Regardless, I still feel rather refreshed.”

 

Greg grinned. “How about this: we get dressed in something comfy, make dinner, and watch something daft while cuddling. Then when the water’s back up, we pop back in here so we can get you cleaned up proper.”

 

Mycroft’s smile, while subtler, more than equaled Greg’s enthusiasm.

 

“I fear for the state of your water bill at this rate.”

 

“Worth the money, I’d say.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure, but I think this is the most editing I've done so far on any of the November Mystrade related stuff I've done. I think it's much stronger now.


End file.
